


If it's worth demanding, it's worth having in writing

by nearperfectthing



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: High School AU, appearances by a whole bunch of Crooked folks, specifically high school debate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:20:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nearperfectthing/pseuds/nearperfectthing
Summary: “Tommy’s still doing debate isn’t he? He’ll be your partner.”In which Jon Favreau and Tommy Vietor are champion high school debaters, and Jon Lovett just wants a social life.
Relationships: Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor, background Jon Lovett/Ronan Farrow
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	If it's worth demanding, it's worth having in writing

**Author's Note:**

> True story: both of the Jons were high school debaters, although I don’t know what style they did. I, however, did policy debate, and that niche and frankly overall unpleasant experience is how this story came to be. If this means anything to you, please let me know and we can discuss if Jon Lovett was a 2N. Title is from an article we used to read in debate rounds by Makani Themba-Nixon which is about why progressives should work through the political system to make lasting change, which I believe Jon Favreau would appreciate. As always, keep it secret keep it safe and please enjoy.

“You can’t quit on me now!” Jon Favreau was well aware both his tone and language was veering dangerously into melodrama, but he couldn’t help it. 

“First off,” Lovett was already waving his arms around, a clear sign to Jon that he was both confident in what he was saying and worried about the outcome, and a clear sign to himself, as Lovett had explained it, that he was  _ the product of a New York Jew and another New York Jew _ . “First off, I’m not quitting on you now, I told you at the beginning of the summer I wasn’t coming back. And secondly, you don’t have to say it like that. It’s not personal.”

“My best friend and debate partner of three years is quitting on me in our senior year and I’m not supposed to take it personally?” Jon figured he might as well lean into the melodrama. Lovett’s mouth opened, but Jon cut him off again. “What could you possibly be doing that’s more important than our Quixotic quest to go to the TOC, Lovett? Nothing is more important than you and me and the tournament of champions.”

“Many things are more important than the tournament of champions, which I’ll remind you is actually a tournament of high school debaters who could hardly be considered champions by any strict definition of the word. And like I told you, I want to focus on other things this year. Travis is starting a comedy group, and he needs my help. It’s senior year, I’m going to have a social life.”

“You’ve never had a social life before.”

“My point exactly. I’m going to have a social life this year.”

“You’re social life consists of doing calculus problems for fun and –”

Lovett interrupted him before Jon could finish. “And, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, your best friend is not quitting on you. Tommy’s still doing debate, isn’t he? He’ll be your partner.”

In the moment Jon took to try to figure out if Lovett was implying that they were not best friends, which was not allowed, Lovett had already moved on. “Look Jon, I love you but I’m not up for another year of spending my weeks stressing about cutting uniqueness updates to arguments we’ll never run and my weekends in high school cafeterias with a bunch of other nerdy guys in badly fitting suits yelling at each other about US-Saudi relations or what Tuck and Yang say about representations of suffering. I know you love it Jon, but debate is a terrible fucking activity. I did my time.”

The rant, accurate as it was to the daily experience of a high school debater, appeared to end as Lovett swung his backpack over his shoulder and turned, saying “see you in English?,” and disappearing around the corner before Jon could get out the singular thought that had been running through his head through the whole rant. Instead, he said it to the empty space in front of him, the students shoving books in their lockers and heading off to class. 

“But I can’t be Tommy’s partner.”

Tommy was, in fact Jon’s best friend, and had been since they were four years old and sharing crayons in pre-school. But everyone knew how dangerous debating with your best friend was. Debate was a serious activity – probably, like Lovett said, too serious for its own good, and you had to be able to strategize with your partner without the worries of emotions coming into play, making the other person feel good just because you liked them. With Lovett, it had been different. Jon had met Lovett freshman year, they were partners first, friends second. Now only friends, although Jon couldn’t say friendship with Lovett wasn’t rewarding. Ridiculous, sometimes infuriating, but rewarding. But the trust of partnership had come first, the trust that if Jon was about to make a terrible argument in the 2AR, Lovett would tell him so. Whereas Jon trusted Tommy to worry about being good to him first. With Tommy, there were feelings involved. Probably more feelings that Jon would like to admit.

He cornered Lovett against after class.    
  
“You can’t quit,” he started out, feeling a distinct sense of deja vu. Lovett stretched up, put his hand to Jon’s forehead. 

“Are you feeling alright? Because we’ve been through this before. I’m quitting, it will be great for everyone. I’ll have a fun year, you and Tommy will kill it at the TOC.”

“But this year? It’s such a good year. Domestic surveillance, it’s a great topic.” Jon could feel himself grasping at straws, but the idea of a year of debate without Lovett, with just Tommy, felt terrifying in a way he couldn’t understand. 

Lovett rolled his eyes. “It’s a great topic for the kind of debate you like, sure. And Tommy too! Think about how good you’ll be saying ‘the government has to do better by its citizens’ while Tommy goes ‘it’s a question of national security’! You’ll be so earnest, he’ll seem so serious. You’re a perfect team, you’ll be great, I’m so happy for you, I’m going to do comedy. And find a boyfriend.”

Jon was pretty sure that this was a stalling tactic, because it was about to work. The idea of Lovett with a boyfriend was equal parts terrifying and wonderful, and Jon was looking forward to the front row seats to whoever made Lovett happy. But if there was one thing Lovett was better at than stalling tactics, it as conversation-ending tactics.

“Better go talk to him now,” Lovett said, gesturing behind Jon’s back. “Before Ben convinces him to defect to Model UN.” They made twin faces of disgust at the thought, and then Lovett waved and left, probably to go have fun. Or find a boyfriend. 

After a moment, staring after Lovett and wondering if he, too, might have a better time joining a comedy group, Jon turned around to see what Lovett had been pointing at.

Tommy Vietor was a good few inches taller than most of the people in the room, which made him easy to spot. Also the fact that Jon had known him, and had practiced looking for him in a crowd, for well over a decade. Tommy was wearing a faded Celtics shirt and jeans that Jon secretly coveted and looked like he was genuinely enjoying his conversation with Ben, whatever it was, until Ben turned to leave a moment later at the sound of the second bell. So Jon braced himself and walked over. There was nothing to be scared about, talking to his own best friend.

“Hey,” he started “you know there isn’t even a real competition in Model UN? You have to cooperate with other people and everything. Gross.” Tommy grinned at him, clearly totally confused, so Jon specified. “Don’t quit debate.”

This got a real laugh out of Tommy, who assured Jon that he wasn’t planning on quitting debate, let alone for a mediocre barely-competition activity like Model UN, where you couldn’t even win. 

“Well you know, Lovett is.” Jon said, trying to sound casual, although he could tell it came out mildly devastated. 

“Yeah, he mentioned. Imagine wanting to have  _ fun _ when you could be a  _ policy debater _ .” Jon laughed. It was a joke but also, somehow, it had become true. Tommy continued, “No, I couldn’t do that. I’m in too deep.”

“Yeah, same.” Jon paused awkwardly. “Policy debate, you know. Partner activity.”

Tommy just looked at him, so Jon continued.

“Partner activity. Mine quit. Yours graduated.” Dearly departed Cody, departed to wreck it in the college debate circuit.

“Jon,” Tommy said dramatically, hand to his chest, “are you popping the question?”

“Well, there’s no one else on the team.”

“How romantic,” Tommy sighed. “Jonathan Favreau, it would be an honor to be your partner.”

“You don’t think it’s a bad idea?” It seemed smart to get to the heart of the issue, rather than investigate the feeling being produced by the earnestness at which Tommy was looking into Jon’s eyes.

“In wins and in losses, in hard policy rounds and in k rounds –” Tommy paused, letting Jon’s words catch up with him, “why would it be a bad idea?”

“I don’t know,” Jon said awkwardly, suddenly unable to explain all the reasons. “Because we’re friends?”

“Exactly,” Tommy said cheerfully. “It’ll be fun. It’ll be great!” He said it with such confidence that Jon couldn’t help but to believe him.

Their first practice was scheduled for the second Thursday of the school year, 3:30 pm, in Ms. Field’s room, the history teacher who sponsored the team, according to the flyers they had printed out in the library and planned to hang around the school. They, meaning Jon and Tommy, because with Cody graduated and Lovett quit to have “fun” and Ben defected to Model UN two years back, Jon and Tommy made up the entirety of the team. They desperately needed to recruit freshman. 

The problem started a week before their scheduled meeting, via rumors in the hallway. 

“I heard Ms. Fields has been out sick the whole week –”

“–I heard she has mono–”

“–I heard it was something worse, like cancer or something–”

“–I heard she quit.”

When Jon and Tommy went after school to investigate, they learned that not only was the policy debate team of Fenway High School down to two people, it no longer had a coach. 

Like the confident seniors they were, the walked straight into the principal’s office, demanding to know what had happened, why no one had known in advance and were met with “that’s a personnel issue, we can’t share with students” and “student organizations must have a teacher sponsor. If you want the debate team to be recognized by the school, you need a teacher,” and then, the deathblow, “there simply isn’t room in the budget this year to sponsor the debate team.”

“Fucking administration,” Jon said, purely for the satisfaction of swearing. “Fucking Principal Rockwell. Fucking school, no fucking transparency. Why didn’t she tell us?”

“Do we need to be school sanctioned?” Tommy was already onto the bigger issue. “Couldn’t we just… go rogue?”

Jon laughed. He couldn’t help it, the image was just too appealing. “You’d make a good rebel,” he assured Tommy. “Thanks,” Tommy said cheerfully. “You’d make a terrible one! You’d miss twitter too much, out on the run.”

As it turned out, they did need to be school sponsored, if they wanted to use the school name, and recruit on school grounds. They needed a teacher, and then they needed freshman. And a budget. Sometimes when Jon closed his eyes at night, he could see himself at the auditorium of the University of Kentucky (he had once googled pictures, just to enhance his own imagination), preparing for his first ever round at the TOC. He had managed to remove Lovett from the image, replacing him with Tommy. He couldn’t bear to give up the idea altogether. 

Tommy found the solution to the first problem: after being refused by several teachers who didn’t yet host clubs, giving increasingly vague reasons why they couldn’t put their name to the debate team, he talked to the softball coach. The softball season didn’t begin until February, which meant that they had a debate team for the first half of the year. At which point they would hopefully have qualified for the TOC, and they would figure it out from there. (Principal Rockwell was strangely reluctant to agree to this arrangement, maybe because it was unorthodox to have a team for half a year, but there was nothing really to argue with, and besides, Jon and Tommy were, quite literally, champion arguers.)

Jon’s solution was slightly less exciting: they were going to have a bake sale.    
  
“It’s actually a really great idea,” Jon explained, “because we can raise some money and remind people that we exist.”

“Sure,” Tommy said.

“And bake sales can raise more than you expect. As long as we do a few of them, we should be able to get through the first few tournaments.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Tommy said, “you’re the one who sounds unsure.”

“I don’t know how to bake.”

Tommy laughed at him. His face scrunched up and his shoulder knocked into Jon’s, sitting next to him at a cafeteria table. 

“I’ll teach you,” Tommy said, and Jon felt his heart flip.

(Jon knew he was bi. Jon knew he was bi, because he was attracted to several men including Russell Tovey on  _ Years and Years _ , Andrew, the debater from Lexington who’d won the Harvard tournament the year before with the cute hipster glasses, and a few politicians that Jon was frankly too embarrassed to think too hard about. Tommy was Jon’s best friend. Jon was not going there.)

The bake sale was on the next Tuesday, which meant that on Monday afternoon, Jon biked over to Tommy’s house with his chemistry textbook and laptop in hand. The plan for the day was: chemistry homework, bake, do debate research while everything was in the oven. Jon was pretty sure the plan would go more in the order of: forget about the chemistry homework, start on debate research but get distracted facebook-stalking their friends that they hadn’t seen since the last tournament of the year last May, bake, eat half the baked goods themselves, clean up the mess they would have made in the kitchen. 

In Tommy’s kitchen he had set out: boxed brownie mix, boxed chocolate chip cookie mix, boxed cupcake mix and store-bought frosting. 

“I thought you were going to teach me how to bake,” Jon said. Tommy laughed.

“My sister says that this stuff goes fastest at bake sales. Besides, I figured you’re already a lost cause.”

“Ouch.” But Jon couldn’t help but to laugh too. 

Tommy started with the cookies, and Jon with the brownies, because Tommy claimed brownies were easier. Considering all he had to do was mix ingredients from a box, Jon very nearly messed up the recipe several times (why were eggshells so hard to get out from brownie batter?), mostly as they argued about what case they should read that year. Jon wanted to read case about repealing the Patriot Act, which Tommy said was too predictable. Tommy wanted to read some convoluted case about DNA scanning, but Jon was going to win the argument, he just had to wait Tommy out for a little bit. Besides, he had already started on the research.

With decent success, they put the cookies and the brownies in the oven, moved on to the cupcakes and their arguments for the negative. And then cleaning the kitchen and more arguments for the negative. And then frosting the cupcakes and gossiping about debaters they knew, debaters they didn’t know, who had graduated, which college judges would be around this year. 

Jon was thinking that it really had been a productive afternoon, that they’d done just about everything they had needed to do, when he saw the delicate way Tommy placed sprinkles on the top of his cupcake. The careful precision to make the decoration even, attractive. Then Jon wasn’t thinking about anything at all, just Tommy’s neat, careful fingers. Then Tommy saw the cupcake Jon had been decorating and laughed so hard he had to sit down, and Jon almost squished the pan of brownies with a flying elbow. 

“Fine then,” he said, “you do them all!” Tommy laughed harder, and Jon’s heart soared. 

The bake sale was a success. They raised $220, which would get one team to the Georgetown debate tournament, assuming the tournament would put them up for free as they had done the year before, assuming Jon and Tommy drove and used their own money for gas. It would be enough. 

The bake sale also got them three curious freshmen, which was of course an odd number, debate was a partner activity. But Jon wasn’t worried about it. One of them, inevitably, would drop after showing up to practice on Thursday, learning how much work was involved. Which meant two new recruits which wasn’t much, they agreed, but hey, they’d just doubled the size of their team. It was a start. 

Sure enough, by the end of practice Thursday, they had added two members to their team. The freshmen were named Akilah and Priyanka, and they didn’t seem particularly thrown off by how small and disorganized the team appeared, just Jon and Tommy in the back of a classroom with a teacher who didn’t know the difference between inherency and solvency. Plus Priyanka laughed at a joke Tommy made, which was obviously a sign of good character, and then Akilah made an even better joke, which was just plain fun. Jon took a moment to hope that she didn’t find out about Lovett’s new comedy group. 

Jon went home from that first practice feeling excited, thinking it would be a good year. He came back to school the next day, determined, running through articles he would have to read and highlight to start putting together their case before Georgetown. Tommy had, finally, agreed to repealing the Patriot Act. They had registered for the tournament at the end of practice, just the two of them, because the freshman wouldn’t be ready in time. Just under a month away, and Jon was already excited, nervous, when he closed his eyes he was standing in front of a desk that was stacked on top of a chair, his laptop perched on top at eye level and a timer in his hand, glancing to his left to see Tommy, ready to take notes, nod at him to start. 

The optimism lasted halfway through homeroom, when Jon was informed that he was supposed to visit the principal when his lunch period started. When he got there, Tommy was already waiting, focused on his phone. 

“So this is a debate thing?” Jon asked, leaning against the wall next to him, trying not to stare at Tommy’s shoulder. 

Tommy shrugged. “The lady at the desk said to wait here for a moment. Did you do anything I should be worried about?” 

Jon laughed, automatically, and then doubted himself. Had he? No, he definitely had not. Clearly, Tommy could read the sudden worry on his face, because he laughed too, just as the woman at the front desk waved them in.    
  
“Partner ready?” Tommy asked. It was a joke, the last thing they said before starting a speech in a round. Maybe it was supposed to hype Jon up, but instead it calmed him down. He nodded, serious, at Tommy, and they walked into the office. 

Principal Rockwell was not someone who Jon had interacted with all that much, except for an occasional  _ congratulations  _ when Jon had been recognized for some achievement. On this day, he was not congratulating Jon on anything, or Tommy on anything, he was informing them that they were not allowed to recruit new debaters. 

“We simply can’t have a team that’s liable to fold at any moment,” Principal Rockwell had said, which was ridiculous, Jon and Tommy knew it was ridiculous, but they also knew better than to explain that they actually had two new team members. They could probably get away with sneaking into a handful of tournaments without the school finding out, and hopefully not getting Priyanka and Akilah into any trouble.

“Excuse me, Principal,” Tommy said, “Can I make a request, on behalf of the debate team?” Tommy was using his absolute most polite voice, which still scared Jon to death. They had not planned to make any requests, and could not afford to get in any more trouble right before their first tournament. “Seeing as Ms. Fields left so suddenly,” Tommy continued, “I was wondering if she had any ideas to help us keep going? Maybe you could help us get in touch with her now that she doesn’t have a school email anymore?” Okay, Jon thought, that was reasonable. That was smart, and surely it couldn’t get them into any more trouble.

Except that Principal Rockwell stood up suddenly, looking almost furious, opened his mouth and then shut it again. Jon felt his stomach drop. So much for being the future valedictorian.    
  
“I have a meeting boys,” Principal Rockwell announced coldly, “This is the end of this conversation.”

  
  


Georgetown Debate Tournament – Policy Results

Fenway FV (Jonathan Favreau and Thomas Vietor)

Record in Preliminary Rounds: 4-2

Record in Out-Rounds: 

Octafinals: loss, 3-0 decision (Opponents: Edgemont JS, judges: Makar, Rowling, Peters)

(A respectable start to the year.)

They held a short practice the week after Georgetown. Jon was embarrassed, a little, about flaming out in the octafinals on a 3-0 decision, and besides, they hadn’t prepared much to teach Priyanka and Akilah. So they wrapped up a quick explanation of different types of perms and told Pryianka and Akilah to go home early, which they seemed happy enough to do. Jon had the vague thought that he and Tommy were doing a terrible job preparing them, and the first tournament would probably be a disaster. Luckily, Priyanka and Akilah didn’t seem thrown by much. 

Jon was distracted, wanting to break down every moment of the tournament with Tommy. He wanted to talk about how good it felt to get high speaker points from one of their favorite judges. He wanted to laugh about the guy they met who made it to the semi-finals despite being sick with food poisoning the whole time. He wanted to complain about the ridiculousness of the judge who dropped them in round three because he said Tommy’s 2NR wasn’t specific enough in answering the link turn even though he did, and also the other team never mentioned Tommy’s argument about the way the card had been cut– and Tommy was standing right in front of Jon, bent towards his laptop and Jon, more than anything, wanted to wrap an arm around his waist. 

Jon’s focus became making sure the debate team, his stupid passion project / thing that took up all his goddamn time was running the way it needed to. And there were so many problems. The problem was, the next tournament on their schedule didn’t allow for novice teams, so they would have to put off bringing Priyanka and Akilah to a real tournament for another few weeks. The problem was, they were fast running out of money to go to these tournaments. The problem was, the still didn’t have a teacher sponsor, or anyone to help them out. Jon and Tommy had gone back to their assistant principal to ask for advice, help, anything, but he had brushed them off. “I don’t think that’s what Principal Rockwell wants me to talk about.” (“Is it just me,” Jon had said later, “or is that a really weird thing to say?” “It’s not just you,” Tommy had said.) The problem was, Tommy played basketball after school on Wednesdays, and he looked really good in those shorts. 

Bronx Science Debate Tournament – Policy Results

Fenway FV (Jonathan Favreau and Thomas Vietor)

Record in Preliminary Rounds: 3-3

Record in Out-Rounds: N/A

(So that was embarrassing.)

  
  


“Hey,” Jon said, dropping into the seat next to Lovett in the cafeteria. 

“Hey.” 

“So we just got back from Big Bronx.” Lovett, bless him, was one of the only people who could follow Jon’s stories about the obnoxious and jargon-filled world of policy debate. Jon launched into a round-up of the tournament, complete with a complaint about one of their favorite antagonists from the year before, a judge who never seemed to like Lovett, and clearly didn’t like Jon or Tommy either. 

“I bet you’re happy you’re missing all of this,” Jon complained, for the millionth time. “Pretty happy, yeah,” Lovett responded. He was doing what Jon was pretty sure was next week’s calculus assignment, but Jon couldn’t be sure, because he hadn’t understood this week’s. 

“Find a boyfriend yet?” Jon said, desperate for some engagement.

“Go save the debate team.”

Although, if you believed Tommy who was friends with Ira who knew about this kind of thing, Lovett had been spending “a lot of time” with “someone” but Ira swore that telling Tommy who would break gay code, whatever that meant. Jon had tried to get it from Ira himself, which made Ira laugh his delighted laugh, and walk away without even giving Jon the respect of an outright rejection. 

Tommy was, in fact, the reigning champion of the Massachusetts Speech and Debate League. Jon was not the reigning champion because he and Lovett have lost narrowly in the semi-finals at the MSDL championship the year before, on a decision that Lovett would always happily complain about, and Jon would happily join him. In any event, they had reputations to defend when they brought Priyanka and Akilah to the December MSDL tournament. They had reputations to defend but honestly, MSDL was not that good – all the competitive teams in the area skipped it in favor of better tournaments, but MSDL was cheap and it was easy to get to and it had a novice division, so Jon and Tommy couldn’t afford to be picky. 

They spent most of the time helping Priyanka and Akilah before rounds, making sure to intimidate all the other ninth graders, and answer any questions the girls had. Priyanka and Akilah ended up going a more than respectable 3-1, placing third overall in the novice division, and when it was announced Jon and Tommy screamed and cheered in a way that should have been completely embarrassing for a competitive varsity team, except that it was more embarrassing to Priyanka and Akilah.

MSDL December Tournament – Policy Results

Fenway FV (Jonathan Favreau and Thomas Vietor)

Record: 4-0

Awards: First place team in varsity division

Jonathan Favreau: First overall speaker in varsity division

Thomas Vietor: Second overall speaker in varsity division

(Priyanka and Akilah cheered like crazy.)

  
  


Jon was proud, of course, of winning first place speaker, but honestly, he was surprised it hadn’t gone to Tommy, who had given one hell of a 1AR in their second round, while Jon was spacing out wondering if there would be pizza for lunch. He told Lovett this, the next day.

“Sounds hot,” Lovett deadpanned. 

Jon blushed, just a little, and thankfully Lovett laughed him off. “GDS-ing already for Tommy?” he asked, laughing. “It was only MSDL, honestly Jon, wait for the TOC.”

GDS, otherwise known as Good Debater Syndrome: when a boy who is not all that cute (as was true of the vast majority of the teenagers nerdy enough to subject themselves to weekend debate tournaments) suddenly started to look extremely cute, just because he’d given a good 2NR.

Jon was not GDS-ing for Tommy. He knew this for a fact, because first of all, Lovett, actually, he couldn’t be GDS-ing for Tommy, because Tommy was attractive to begin with. 

Besides, Jon’s romantic prospects, dim as they had ever been, were hardly the topic of interest these days. Lovett had claimed to be busy three weekends in a row (“Believe it or not Jon, there are things people do on the weekend that aren’t debate tournaments”) and Jon had asked Travis if it was the comedy group and Travis had said no, he didn’t know what it was, and then Jon and Travis had gone together to ask Ira if he knew, because if there was one thing all of Lovett’s friends had in common, it was the desire to invade on his romantic life. And Ira, who would not answer questions for Jon but apparently would for Travis, had  _ winked.  _ He had winked! And then he had laughed his deep laugh in Jon’s face and said it was nothing, but Jon was pretty sure it wasn’t nothing. So now it was up to Jon, and to Travis, and to Tommy if he wanted to get involved, to find out what was going on. 

Jon and Tommy had a good division of labor: Jon would cut 2AC updates, Tommy would prep answers to the new case Glenbrook was running, Jon would explain the cap k to Priyanka and Akilah, Tommy, who had finally admitted to being as invested in the whole drama as Jon was, would find out what was going on with Lovett’s maybe-boyfriend. To get all this done, it took them a week. 

As it turned out, Ira had not been winking about nothing. He had been winking about something, and more specifically, someone. Jon sort of knew Ronan Farrow because their families went to the same church, and because everyone sort of knew Ronan Farrow, who was the only junior allowed to take classes with the seniors and the only junior who was smarter than all the seniors, which would have been fucking annoying if he wasn’t so nice about it, and because he was the editor of the school newspaper, and because yeah, he was one of  _ those  _ Farrows. 

And now, apparently, he was Lovett’s boyfriend. Not Lovett’s words. But Tommy had seen them walking home from school together on Tuesday holding hands, which meant that Lovett hadn’t biked to school, which meant that Lovett intentionally hadn’t biked to school so that he could walk home holding hands with Ronan Farrow. Jon didn’t know whether he was more jealous, or insulted that Lovett wouldn’t tell him, or just plain happy for them. 

  
  


The last day of school before winter break came with a snow storm that wasn’t nearly strong enough to cancel school in Massachusetts, so Jon’s mom shoved him out the door, telling him to drive carefully. Jon hadn’t taken in a single word that his teachers had said by lunch time, when Lovett tapped him on the shoulder.    
  
“Hey,” Lovett said, “Wanna ditch?”

And who said debaters couldn’t have a social life? Lovett and Tommy spent the whole ten minute drive to the movie theater arguing about what movie to see – Lovett wanted the new Marvel movie, Tommy wanted literally anything else, while Jon occasionally chimed in with a “Shit, don’t yell, there’s ice on the street.” They ended up with the Marvel movie because Lovett might have quit debate, but he could win any argument by out-annoying the other person, and also, honestly, because Jon kind of wanted to see it. Not that he would say that to Tommy, but he was pretty sure Tommy knew. 

They split a large popcorn and Jon kept stealing sips from Lovett’s diet coke and they skipped school to go to a mediocre big-budget movie and Jon loved his friends, things were good. 

(He was only a little jealous of the pigtail-pulling while he had to focus on driving home, Tommy starting up on the subject Jon had been carefully resisting from bringing up.

“So,” Tommy said, “Ronan Farrow.”

Lovett scowled, drank more diet coke.

“He’s a nice guy,” Tommy said. “He’s always seemed nice to me”

“Jesus, Tommy what do you want me to say?”

“Is he being good to you?”

Lovett’s cheeks were pink, and he was barely resisting a smile, trying to bury it in his diet coke but Jon knew him too well. Actually, Jon wasn’t quite sure what he was jealous of, exactly.)

Jon went to his grandparents for Christmas, strung popcorn and cranberries across the tree and dodged questions about college and, for some reason, law school, even though he hadn’t even gotten into college yet. He opened presents and threw wrapping paper at his brother like they were still little kids and they went to midnight mass and Jon prayed and prayed and sometimes he wasn’t even sure what he was praying for. 

And then he went to Ira’s for New Years, although he really had no idea why Ira had deigned to extend the invite, and found that literally everyone he knew and liked from school was there, as well as some people he didn’t know, but seemed nice enough. Jon drank with Lovett and Tommy and he drank with Ben and he refused to drink with Priyanka and Akilah because they seemed too young and he drank with Ira and Travis and he resisted the urge to give Ronan Farrow, who showed up late and smiled at Lovett like Lovett was the whole world, a shovel talk, because he was just that good of a friend, and also, as Tommy pointed out, he was a deeply un-intimidating drunk. 

They watched the ball drop and at midnight they spilled beer on each other because no one had splurged for champagne and Lovett and Ronan kissed very, very subtly so no one could even make fun of them for the PDA and Tommy was smiling at Jon and Jon wasn’t thinking anything at all. 

Lexington was a big deal. Lexington was the second best tournament they would go to all year, and Jon and Tommy stayed up past midnight three days in the week leading up the tournament, prepping. They were ready, they were so ready. This was the chance to show the world, okay, the Northeast high school policy debate circuit, how good they were. Jon let himself fall hard into this goal, let his whole world become getting ready for the Lexington debate tournament. 

Lexington Debate Tournament – Policy Results

Fenway FV (Jonathan Favreau and Thomas Vietor)

Record in Preliminary Rounds: 5-1

Record in Out-Rounds:

Double-octa finals: bye 

Octa finals: win, 3-0 decision (Opponent: La Salle FP, judges: Summers, Johnson, Michaels)

Quarterfinals: win, 2-1 decision (Opponent: Glenbrook South KK, judges: Sharp, Easterling, Dean)

Semifinals: loss, 2-1 decision (Opponent: University Prep NL, judges: Smith, Easterling, Johnson)

(It was the best they had done, ever. It was a quarters bid tournament, which meant they were halfway to the TOC)

(But that wasn’t the part that mattered.)

Here is the thing about debate tournaments: they are exhausting. By the time Jake Easterling was announcing the results of the octafinals, Jon and Tommy had been debating for three straight days, subsisting on pizza and stale granola bars. Jon’s throat was sore and he was full of adrenaline and just wanted to nap, and to be honest, he couldn’t even make himself that sad about losing. He would feel bad tomorrow. He would run over all the things he should have done, feel guilty for all the mistakes he could have made, become convinced that it was his fault, not Tommy’s. But in that moment, he was overflowing with relief to be done, to have come this far and put up a strong fight and gone out against the best team in the entire tournament. 

Jon and Tommy packed up their things, their laptops and laptop chargers and endless pens and papers covered in notes, and headed to the car. Jon was driving this time, and he almost didn’t want to go home. They stopped at a Dunkin Donuts on the way, bought coffee and donuts which they ate at a speed that Jon’s mom never would have approved of, and then they headed back to the car. By the time he was pulled in front of Tommy’s house, Jon felt, vaguely, like he was floating, on success and probably a bit of a sugar high. 

Jon turned to grin at Tommy, the same happiness that had been overflowing the car the whole drive back, and Tommy was grinning back. Tommy was grinning and Tommy was hanging on to the straps of his backpack as he moved to get out of the car and then Tommy wasn’t grinning anymore, he was looking at Jon, dead serious, and then he leaned over the gearshift and very quickly, very firmly, he kissed Jon.

And then he turned, got out of the car, and hurried up the steps to his house. 

Tommy kissed him. He  _ kissed  _ him. He, Tommy Vietor, of the broad shoulders and perfect posture and eyes that crinkled when he laughed at a really good joke, kissed Jon Favreau. 

And then he turned and left. And the next day at school, he didn’t say anything about it. 

  
  


MSDL January Tournament – Policy Results

Fenway FV (Jonathan Favreau and Thomas Vietor)

Record: 4-0

Awards: First place varsity team

Thomas Vietor: Second overall speaker in varsity division

Jonathan Favreau: Third overall speaker in varsity division

(They didn’t talk the whole tournament)

  
  


There were a lot of things distracting Jon Favreau. To begin with, there was the fact that Tommy hadn’t said a single word to him, outside of what was completely necessary, since kissing him in the car on the way back from Lexington. Which was not only confusing and infuriating, but it was sad, because Jon missed talking. It occurred to Jon that, for as attractive as Tommy was, he never would have wished for a single second to kiss him if Jon had known it would end up like this. 

Jon was distracted by school as well, it felt like he was slipping further back in calculus and then his history teacher, who loved Jon, had asked if Jon would tutor another student, so he had those hours on top of everything else. And every time Jon tried to get together with Lovett, because at least he still had one best friend around, Lovett said he was busy. Eventually, Lovett admitted that it had something to do with Ronan Farrow, and when Jon said that they could both come by and watch a movie and eat junk food, Lovett said that Ronan was busy too. Lovett didn’t look very happy, and it occurred to Jon that he might not be the only one having issues, but when he asked Lovett if they were fighting, Lovett told him it was none of his business, and then told Jon that they weren’t fighting, that he was sorry, but Ronan was just very busy. 

And in all of this distraction Jon had almost forgotten the deadline coming up on the debate team. They didn’t have a new teacher sponsor, and they could hardly get away with continuing without one, with all the pressure the principal had put on ending the team altogether. Which meant that on top of everything, Jon’s debate career had ended quietly, without him even noticing.

And Tommy still wasn’t talking to him. 

Ten minutes before the the end of English class, the front office buzzed over the announcements, asking the teacher to send Jonathan Favreau to the main office. Five minutes later, Jon found himself sitting next to Tommy, who didn’t look at them, as Principal Rockwell told them that he was officially folding the debate team. 

Tommy said, “We only have one tournament left this year, can we at least finish out the season? We have the funding and the transportation, it would just be one more weekend.” For one terrible moment, Jon wanted Tommy to shut up. Maybe not having the team would be better, making it easier to ignore Tommy for the rest of the year. At least until the silence between them stopped hurting. 

Principal Rockwell’s refusal brought Jon back to earth, and the issue at hand. “That simply won’t do. I didn’t want the team to continue this year, and I won’t have it continue against school rules.” After the briefest pause, he said “You may return to class.” 

That afternoon, Jon texted Lovett. It said,  _ hey so remember the thing about how we might not have a debate team after feb? It’s happening _

He texted,  _ so i guess i’m like you i’m not debating anymore - any advice? _

He texted,  _ hey lo any chance you’re not busy for once? _

He texted,  _ because i know you care more about your bf than any of your friends these days _

He texted,  _ but if you could take a break from making out for a single second it might be nice _

He texted,  _ because tommy isn’t talking to me anymore so if you aren’t too busy with your new bf it might be nice to have a friend for a change _

And he texted,  _ sorry, i’m a dick _ and he flopped down on the couch in the basement to watch whatever was on tv, he’d pick a random channel and refuse to change it, punishing himself by refusing the prospect of entertainment.

Twenty minutes later, when Jon was deep into some godawful sitcom from a channel his brother must have left on, the doorbell rang, and a minute later, Lovett came down the stairs.

“You’re right, you are a dick,” Lovett started. He seemed to be waiting for some response, some defense from Jon, but Jon said nothing, just kept staring at the tv. Lovett dropped down onto the couch next to him, squishing Jon’s feet. 

“This show is shit.” Of course Lovett would know the dumb tv show. Still, Jon didn’t say anything. 

“Why isn’t Tommy talking to you?”

Finally, Jon responded, quietly. “I don’t know.” They sat together, watching tv. Jon forced himself to speak again. “He kissed me.” The words went mostly into the couch cushion.    
  
“What?” Lovett said.

“I said, Tommy kissed me.”

“ _ What?! _ ”

Jon sighed, deeply. He was quiet, for a minute, and Lovett was too, just thinking.    
  
“Did you reject him?”

“Of course not,” Jon said tiredly. “It was the single best moment of my life.”

“I didn’t even know you were gay, Jon.”

“Bi,” Jon corrected. They sat again, in silence. And then Jon said, miserably, “I think I’m in love with him.” He hadn’t let himself think the words until after Tommy had kissed him, but they felt undeniably true. Tommy, his Tommy, who could be funny when no one expected it, mean when no one expected it, incredibly handsome when Jon had not expected it, but was most of all was good and giving and fun. Jon was in love with him. 

Lovett sighed and, very carefully, put his hand on Jon’s elbow. Jon understood how much this meant to Lovett, who hated to touch people. “I’m sorry,” Lovett said. They watched tv. 

The school newspaper came out the first Friday of every month. This had been true for as long as Jon had been in high school, that the first Friday of the month would come with predictable recaps of the various sports programs and an assembly or choir concert. But in the past year, under the leadership of Lovett’s boyfriend and the English teacher who Jon’s brother liked so much, the newspaper had started to include everything from reports from the education committee of the city council to humorous reviews of the school’s various attempts at healthier hot lunch. So when Jon walked through the front door on that first Friday of February, he took a copy of the newspaper from the stack, which, half an hour before school started, was already dwindling dramatically.

Across the front page it said,  _ Four Teachers Describe Stolen Club Funds and Attempted Bribes by Principal, One Fired _ .

The first name that jumped out at Jon was Ronan Farrow, who had the byline. And then he saw the name of the teacher, Erica Fields. The former debate coach, the teacher who had been fired. As he read further, he saw that the money had come from a fund for various activities, including academic clubs. No wonder no one had wanted Jon and Tommy asking questions about Ms. Fields, about the debate funding. 

The whispers in the hall started two hours later, and two hours after that, the school newspaper’s website posted an updated article.  _ Principal Resigns After Accusations of Stealing Funds and Offering Bribes _ . Just after school ended, Jon got a text from Akilah. It said,  _ so my spanish teacher says she’d be happy to sponsor the debate team, i guess rockwell had been pushing them not to say yes? room 412 if you want to talk to her.  _

Jon sent the text over to Tommy. The last text in their thread had been before Tommy had kissed Jon, before he had stopped talking to Jon. Jon was jealous of this former version of themselves. 

He was relieved that Akilah and Priyanka were already outside the classroom when he got there, so that he wouldn’t be alone with Tommy. Together, the four of them talked to the teacher, who was not only happy to put her name to the team and let them use the classroom, but offered to help them recruit a larger group of new debaters. Which meant that there would be a team after Jon and Tommy left, but more immediately, it meant they were going to the Harvard debate tournament after all. 

Lovett’s comedy group had their first performance that week. By the time Jon made up to the hosting cafe, it was fairly crowded. Travis was hurriedly fixing the set, and pretty much everyone else Jon knew in the whole world was in the audience. Jon sat all the way in the back, which had a few advantages. He didn’t have to talk to anyone, he could see how they all reacted to Lovett’s set, he could stare at the back of Tommy’s head to his heart’s content. 

Just a minute before the first act was supposed to go on, someone slid into the seat next to him. Ronan Farrow, running late as usual. 

“Hey,” Jon said, to be polite. 

“Hey.”

Jon thought, for a moment, about what to say. He wanted to make Lovett’s boyfriend like him. He wanted to like Lovett’s boyfriend. 

“That was really impressive, your article,” Jon said. “That you talked to all those teachers,”

“Thanks.” Ronan’s voice was quiet, Jon had never heard him sound anything but extremely polite. “I just wanted to say,” Ronan continued, “that I know I’ve been monopolizing Jonathan’s time, with this article. It was really stressful to get out, and he was wonderful about it.”

Jonathan? Oh, Lovett. It occurred to Jon that this was some sort of apology, which he was pretty sure did not deserve. “I’ve been kind of a dick to Lovett, actually. So anything he’s said about me, it’s my fault. I’m glad he helped though, like I said, it was really cool.”

Ronan nodded seriously. He was looking intently at Jon, and Jon wondered suddenly if Ronan Farrow knew everything about him. If Lovett had talked, or if Ronan just knew everything about everynone. “I hope he does well tonight. He’s going last, that’s a good sign right? It means he’ll be good?” Ronan said. 

“Or that they want people to leave before he comes on.” Jon was joking. He hoped Ronan realized he was joking. 

As it turned out, Lovett was good. Almost all his jokes landed, getting constant laughs from the audience. And when they didn’t, Jon laughed anyway. Ronan smiled widely, the least serious he had ever seemed. Somewhere in the audience, during all of Lovett’s worst jokes, Jon could swear he could hear Tommy laughing too. 

The Harvard debate tournament was the most competitive tournament in the country outside of the TOC. It was also enormous, including not only the Harvard campus but various high schools and elementary schools around Cambridge. It was large and chaotic and loud and exciting and a debate nerd wildest dreams and deepest anxieties come true, and Jon just wished Tommy would talk to him. They made it through the first day: four rounds, three wins, Jon chatted with a guy he knew from McDonough during lunch while Tommy scrolled through his phone. They ate dinner in silence. 

It wasn’t until the end of the second day that anything happened at all, outside of a record in preliminary rounds that Jon was frankly quite proud of. Once again, they were in the car. This time, Tommy was driving Jon home, but when he pulled into Jon’s family’s driveway, Tommy didn’t unlock the car door. Jon fiddled with the zipper on his coat, waiting for Tommy to tell him to leave, or to stay, or whatever he wanted to say. Jon wanted to yell at Tommy, to tell him this was no time to make things worse, or to have a heart to heart, that their dynamic, awful as it was, had them clinging to a spot in the out-rounds and they had to debate again tomorrow. Finally, Tommy spoke.

“It was a stupid thing to do,” Tommy said miserably. 

For a moment, Jon wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“You obviously weren’t interested.” So they were talking about it. 

Tommy was a lot of things, but dumb wasn’t usually one of them. “And what made that obvious?” Jon asked carefully. 

“The fact that you’ve been ignoring my flirting all year? God Jon, it’s not like I’ve been subtle.”

Jon was silent, thinking about this.

Tommy was silent, thinking about this. 

“Tommy.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jon wasn’t sure who Tommy was mad at, between the two of them. 

“Thomas. Thomas Frederick Vietor. The Fourth. Please elaborate.” 

Tommy laughed, almost meanly. “Hey Jon, remember that time I talked about getting married? Right when you said we should be partners?”

And then Jon said the only thing that came to mind. “Oh, shit.”

Jon was silent, thinking about this.

Tommy was silent, thinking about this. 

“I felt so goddamn stupid,” Tommy admitted softly. 

“Tommy, this is the least stupid thing you’ve ever said.” Jon noted that his voice was getting a little more energetic than he should be, in a car on a residential street at night. “Tommy, you’re a goddamn genius.”

They were both silent, thinking about this. 

“Tommy, will you kiss me again?”

And Tommy did. And Tommy didn’t turn and leave. He looked right into Jon’s eyes until Jon had to look away, look down at his shoes, anywhere that wasn’t Tommy eyes, the soft, serious expression on his face. 

“What did you think that time?”

Jon’s voice was quiet, with awe. “I told you Tommy, you’re a goddamn genius.”

Harvard Debate Tournament – Policy Results

Fenway FV (Jonathan Favreau and Thomas Vietor)

Record in Preliminary Rounds: 5-2

Record in Out Rounds:

Double-octa finals: win, 3-0 decision (opponent: Edgemont KS, judges: Sharp, Harder, Summers)

Octa-finals: loss, 2-1 decision (opponent: Churchill RT, judges: Harder, Page, Forsythe)

(And then–)

  
  


They lost in the octafinals, which was their second bid, it was their guaranteed ticket to the TOC, and it was also past lunchtime. Jon was starving, he had been too nervous to eat anything but half a granola bar that morning, and even if lunch was just the third day straight of dominos pizza and browning bananas, nothing would stop him on the way to the cafeteria. 

Tommy, apparently, did not feel the same. “I have to do something first,” he said, and then dashed off before Jon could ask any questions. Not before Jon could start to worry, to wonder if something had gone terribly wrong since Tommy had last kissed him.

Jon was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria. It was fairly empty, most of the tournament had gone home, and the people still debating weren’t wasting time sitting down to eat lunch. He tapped his slice of pepperoni pizza gently with a napkin, staring at the grease stain it left. Gross. Jon knew he should be feeling good, but it always sucked to lose. It sucked more to be sitting alone, especially when he had gotten his hopes up so high. Gross, gross.

Jon felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and Tommy was standing there, holding a box in his hands. Jon sent the box a questioning look, and Tommy smiled awkwardly.

“How’s your lunch?”

“Pretty terrible, honestly. Want a bite?” Tommy shook his head, probably a smart move. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Tommy asked cautiously. Jon wanted to laugh. He wanted to say  _ yes, Tommy, literally any moment.  _ He wanted to wipe the pizza grease from his mouth. He wanted to stand on the table in front of the last stragglers of the debate tournament and with his arms around Tommy’s waist and kiss him like a movie. 

He said, “Yes, please.”

Tommy kissed him. It was careful, it was the best thing Jon had ever felt. 

After a moment, Tommy pulled away. “That’s for the TOC bid.” 

Jon laughed, “That’s the only reason?” 

“What are you holding?” Jon asked, looking again at the box in Tommy’s hands. Tommy shifted, like he was embarrassed. It was a cardboard box, wrapped in plastic, but Tommy’s hand was blocking the label.

“It’s kind of stupid.”

“I thought we agreed this was the least stupid thing you’ve ever done.”

Tommy went ever so slightly red. “Do you know what today’s date is?”

Jon thought about it. The tournament had started on Friday, which was the 12th, making today–. Tommy thrust out his hands, revealing a box of chocolate.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jon.” 

They were tired, they were hungry, they needed to go home. They sat in the cafeteria, and ate every last chocolate in the box. When the box was empty, Tommy picked up the trash, preparing to throw it out, and Jon, going entirely on instinct, reached out and grabbed Tommy’s hand. Tommy went pink, and Jon went pinker. They threw out the trash, they left the cafeteria, they brought their stuff to the car, and they stayed holding hands the entire way home. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Why did those teachers tell this sensitive story to the high school newspaper and not a real journalist? It’s Ronan, just go with it. Also, the Harvard Debate Tournament really does fall on Valentine’s Day most years. Believe me, it is not that romantic.


End file.
